


California, 2004

by SummerNightmares (BlackDog9314)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gen, Pre-Series, Self-Reflection, photograph
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 06:16:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13851819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackDog9314/pseuds/SummerNightmares
Summary: There’s a picture Sam keeps in his desk drawer at Stanford, a polaroid taken from the glove compartment of the Impala the night he left (almost two years ago now).





	California, 2004

There’s a picture Sam keeps in his desk drawer at Stanford, a polaroid taken from the glove compartment of the Impala the night he left (almost two years ago now).

If John’s missed it at all, he hasn’t broken his stubborn silence to tell Sam so.

In this picture, Dean’s two or three and wearing a blue and white striped shirt with a small pink flower tucked behind his ear. He has a Mickey Mouse band-aid on one chubby knee, and is wearing mismatched socks. Mary's balancing him on her hip, her slender frame wrapped in a long, lavender house dress with a small tear in the right sleeve. Her blonde hair falls in a tangled curtain over one of her shoulders, as if she gathered Dean up suddenly just for the picture, and she’s not looking directly at the camera, but at whoever’s holding it. There's a half-chopped red onion on the kitchen counter behind her, translucent pieces of pink and white scattered over a big, scarred cutting board, and sunlight streams through the nearby window over the sink.

Sam knows it was his father who took the picture, because Mary's expression is half-smile, half-exasperation, her white teeth glinting like a jungle cat’s as she grins.

There’s writing on the back of the picture, but it says only ‘July’.

Sam looks at the picture often: when his roommate's out, when it's past midnight and the apartment is dark and soundless and closed like a box around him, after Jess calls and they talk on the phone for an hour or two.

Sam slowly, carefully takes the picture out each time like the secret it is, something in the center of his chest going tender and sore as Dean's small, round face smiles up at him.

Every time, Sam inevitably thinks of the way Dean looked when he last saw him (no baby fat, no flowers, no soft cotton shirts).

It's been a long time since Sam’s brother was a child.

Sometimes, looking at this joyful, carefree version of Dean feels like grieving someone who's died, and maybe that's exactly what Sam is doing.


End file.
